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Poster: Cliff Hucker Date: Jun 15, 2009 5:09pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Le Mort joyeux

Dans une terre grasse et pleine d'escargots
Je veux creuser moi-même une fosse profonde,
Où je puisse à loisir étaler mes vieux os
Et dormir dans l'oubli comme un requin dans l'onde.

Je hais les testaments et je hais les tombeaux;
Plutôt que d'implorer une larme du monde,
Vivant, j'aimerais mieux inviter les corbeaux
À saigner tous les bouts de ma carcasse immonde.

Ô vers! noirs compagnons sans oreille et sans yeux,
Voyez venir à vous un mort libre et joyeux;
Philosophes viveurs, fils de la pourriture,

À travers ma ruine allez donc sans remords,
Et dites-moi s'il est encor quelque torture
Pour ce vieux corps sans âme et mort parmi les morts!

— Charles Baudelaire


Anyone here familiar with the works of Baudelaire? Can you please share your impressions of his poetry or his essays on hashish and wine?

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Poster: Arbuthnot Date: Jun 15, 2009 6:20pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Le Mort joyeux

i never got the Baudelaire bug in my wandering days, but did pass through a period where i was reading lots of Rimbaud; from what the historians tell us, he was a bit of a jerk later in life, but in his youth, he burned quite brightly:

WANDERING
[translated by Paul Schmidt]

I ran away, hands stuck in pockets that seemed
All holes; my jacket was a holey ghost as well.
I followed you, Muse! Beneath your spell,
Oh, la, la, what glorious loves I dreamed!

I tore my shirt; I threw away my tie.
Dreamy Hop o' my Thumb, I made rhymes
As I ran. I slept out most of the time.
The stars above me rustled through the sky.

I heard them on the roadsides where I stopped
Those fine September nights, when the dew dropped
On my face and I licked it to get drunk.

I made up rhymes in dark and scary places,
And like a lyre I plucked the tired laces
Of my worn-out shoes, one foot beneath my heart.

Arthur Rimbaud (1854-91)

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Poster: Earl B. Powell Date: Jun 15, 2009 6:36pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Le Mort joyeux

Showed me pictures in the gallery
Showed me novels on the shelf
Put my hands across the table
Gave me knowledge of myself.
Showed me visions, showed me nightmares
Gave me dreams that never end
Showed me light out of the tunnel
When there was darkness all around instead.

Tore down a la rimbaud
And I wish my message would come
Tore down a la rimbaud, you know it's hard some time

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Poster: Jerrob Hungar Date: Jun 17, 2009 6:15am
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Le Mort joyeux

Hello Cliff. Thanks for bringing a little reminder of grateful dead cultural heritage (and a little variety) to the forum. I wonder if le mort joyeux might have had some subconcious part in the choice of name. I'd bet the teepee that robert and jerry had more than a passing acqaintance with the copper-dome Baudi as he and Mallarme and Rimbaud were required reading for us flower children back in the sixties (some of us might even have been fleurs du mal children)
I wish I could say I was familiar with his works but its forty years since I dabbled and my recollection of the wine and hash essays is very hazy. I'd love to read them now but they're unlikely to be at my local library and my financial priorities preclude any forays to Amazon.
If I recall correctly we share a certain fondness for the grape and the resin, so I'll keep an eye out for any sign of the great man's writings on the subject.
Meanwhile, I'll leave this link to one of my favourite Rimbaud sites.
http://www.mag4.net/Rimbaud/DocumentsE1.html

"There can be no progress (real, that is, moral) except in the individual and by the individual himself." - Charles Baudelaire (from Mon Coeur Mis À Nu, 1897)

"I will walk alone by the black muddy river
Sing me a song of my own" - Robert Hunter



This post was modified by Jerrob Hungar on 2009-06-17 13:15:42

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